


An Arrangement

by Traxits



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, mild bloodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-04
Updated: 2010-11-04
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traxits/pseuds/Traxits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeremy offers Damon a deal in order to get a model.  The question is not whether the deal was fair, but whether or not either of them realized what they were getting into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blue_crow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_crow/gifts).



> Written for the Vampire Diaries Kink Meme. (original prompt [here](http://community.livejournal.com/tvd_kink/576.html?thread=58688#t58688))
> 
> "Jeremy slash, preferably Tyler or Damon but Matt or Stefan would work too. Jeremy is tired of drawing out of figure books and wants a live model to work from. He appeals to someone's vanity to convince them to pose for him naked or shirtless."

The grill was not as packed as Jeremy would have liked it to be, given his current choice of activities. After all, he could only stare at any particular table for so long before he got the glare. The one that said it would be best for him to move on, or the one that asked what the hell was wrong with him. It was impolite to stare, but he didn't really have a choice.

He could only get so far sketching from still pictures. There was a fluidity in the way that people moved, a certain... aspect of the motion that he found difficult to capture. Quick sketching at the grill was about as close as he could get to it without asking someone to actually model for him. It didn't help that he couldn't think of anyone that he would have been comfortable asking. Or that he would mind staring at and drawing for that long.

So he sketched. The blonde that pinched the bridge of her nose when she laughed went on one page; the elderly gentleman who still looped his arm protectively over the back of his wife's chair was on the next. There were only so many poses that he could get from the patrons though. He had just started on the bartender when the door opened and one more face for his sketchbook walked in.

Damon didn't sit at the bar the way everyone else did; at least, not right away. Instead, he leaned over the bar top, holding out his hand to catch the bartender's attention. The quickest of sketches captured that moment; Jeremy hoped that he'd be able to remember the details later. Damon managed to look at complete and utter ease no matter what he was doing, and Jeremy wondered what exactly it was that lent itself to that appearance. Watching the tips of Damon's fingers lightly rest on the rim of the glass, he finally decided that it was a combination of Damon's grin and the elongated movements that he used. He glanced down and blushed, realizing he'd managed to fill not only one, but two pages of sketches just in the brief moment that Damon had been in the room.

He glanced up and quickly snapped his sketchbook closed. He couldn't find Damon leaning against the bar, and the last thing that he wanted was for Damon to come over and see that Jeremy had been so damned infatuated with him.

"Jeremy Gilbert, are you _spying_ on people?" Damon's voice was practically right in his ear, and Jeremy jumped before he twisted around to look at him. The drink in Damon's hand made a quiet clinking sound as it touched the table.

Pulling his sketchpad in a little closer, Jeremy reached for his own drink-- iced tea, nothing special-- and shook his head. "I'm not!" Belatedly, he realized that Damon had been joking, and he felt heat rising in his cheeks. Guilty conscience. "I'm sketching."

But Damon wasn't taking 'no' for an answer, because he simply reached around Jeremy and tugged the sketchbook away. He flipped it open, thumbing through the first pages until he found the sketches Jeremy had just been working on. "Oh, you are such a liar. See," one of his fingers trailed over the lines, "there's Matt, busing tables, and hello, who is this?" His eyes lifted to scan over the nearby tables, and his grin widened. "She looks delicious, doesn't she?"

Jeremy sank into his chair, fidgeting and blushing even more darkly as Damon continued to match sketches with faces, and just before Damon turned the page to the sketches of him, Jeremy sighed loudly. Damon's eyes lifted for just a moment, and Jeremy slid his glass across the table between his hands. "I wouldn't have to do this if I could get a model, you know." He pressed the pads of his fingers against the glass, willing himself to stop trembling. It wasn't like Damon would bite him or anything. Not in public.

Damon laughed, and Jeremy's fingers twirled the pencil between them, wondering if he could capture that expression on paper. There were so many subtleties that he doubted he could, with the faintest trace of self-mockery and utter confidence in everything that he did, but Jeremy wanted to try all the same.

"Ooh," Damon leaned forward a little, just enough for it to be uncomfortable, and he arched an eyebrow. "Jeremy, are you asking me to model for you?"

A swallow, and then Jeremy met him halfway, a smile on his own lips. "And if I am?" He could feel his heart thudding in his chest, and he wondered if Damon could hear it. Damon studied him closely, and then he settled back in his chair, tapping his glass against Jeremy's lightly.

"Time for you to look elsewhere, pretty boy. I have better things to do." Damon took a drink, and he glanced over toward the bar.

Jeremy frowned. "Like what?" He followed Damon's gaze toward a pretty brunette and he snorted. "Really? Nothing... vampirey?"

"Vampirey?" Damon's grin returned. "Picking up something to eat too common for you, Mr. Gilbert?"

He fidgeted, and then Jeremy said, "You can..." He glanced around and lowered his voice a little more. "You can feed without killing, right?"

Clearly entertained by the sheer awkwardness that Jeremy was feeling, Damon considered the question for a moment, tapping his finger against the side of his glass. "I ... can, yes. Are you offering or just concerned?" His soft chuckle told Jeremy exactly what he figured the answer already was.

Jeremy hesitated only for a moment, and then he pushed his luck. "An arrangement then." His mouth was dry, and he let go of his own glass out of fear that he might squeeze it too hard.

Damon's eyes narrowed, all traces of amusement fading as he looked at Jeremy. "Interesting... You're treating me to lunch?"

"It's a fair deal." Jeremy's voice had gone up an octave, and he quickly sipped his tea. He really hoped that Damon couldn't tell how nervous he was. He hadn't been bitten since Anna's death, and to be perfectly honest, it hadn't exactly been clinical. "You know that."

There was a moment of quiet, and then Damon's arm fell over his shoulders, his hand tight on the back of Jeremy's neck. He pulled Jeremy out of his chair and led him out the back door. Jeremy did his best to keep a smile on his face-- yeah, yeah, this happens all the time-- and when they got outside, Damon pushed him against the wall, his eyes narrowing sharply.

"Does Elena know you're-"

"It's none of Elena's business what I do." Jeremy stuck his chin out, doing his very best to seem as calm as possible. Out here, without the sound of the grill to muffle it, he was absolutely certain that Damon could hear his heart pounding. It was unnerving. "Besides, you're supposed to be drinking blood bags, not people."

Damon stepped a little closer to him, and Jeremy thought he caught a flash of fangs. Maybe not though, because Damon's expression didn't change the way Anna's had. He did wonder how the hell Damon managed to make him feel so small in front of him when he _knew_ he had a good three inches on him.

"Little boy all grown up?" Damon had that grin, and he pulled Jeremy down so that Jeremy's face was lower than his own. "That ring makes you a lot braver than you really should be." He drew a deep breath, and Jeremy realized belatedly that Damon was _smelling_ him, scenting whatever it was that vampires smelled on their prey. "People _are_ blood bags."

Jeremy shivered, and he reached up to twist the ring off of his finger, shoving it into his pocket. Damon had already proven that he was more than capable of pulling it off of him; it wasn't like it was actual protection against anything where he was concerned. He held up his hands where Damon could see them. "Take it or leave it, Damon. It's just an offer."

Damon stilled, and Jeremy watched him consider the options again. He didn't let Jeremy go, but his hand moved to lightly stroke his fingertips over Jeremy's throat. Jeremy really hoped that he didn't plan on biting him there; Elena would seriously freak out. Finally, he asked, "Just model for you?" His grip tightened marginally.

A nod, and Jeremy added, "Maybe some pictures for later reference? But yeah, just model. It's not exactly something that I'm asking just anyone." He licked his lips, and then Damon let him go, pushing him toward the door. He ducked in to grab his things, not wanting Damon to have time to change his mind, not wanting to give himself time enough to really think about what he was agreeing to.

Damon drove him to the Salvatore house, and it wasn't until they got there and Jeremy dropped his bag on the couch that he realized how awkward it really was. Damon was still looking at him as though he might leap on him at any moment, and Jeremy wasn't entirely sure that he wouldn't. He didn't relax until Damon poured a glass of whiskey, and even then, it was only marginal.

"How..." He swallowed, and when Damon poured another, he shook his head. Damon didn't seem to notice the motion though, because he just kind of pushed the glass into his hand as he perched on the edge of the couch. Jeremy sank down to sit beside him. "How do you want to do this?"

Damon licked his lips, looking down into his glass for a moment. His eyes lifted just as he took a drink. "Where do you want me?" The grin that played over his lips was decidedly wicked when combined with that eye-thing that he did, and Jeremy quickly cast a look back toward the door. Damon waved a hand, settling the glass on the nearest table surface. "Dear brother Stefan is out with your sister. We have a while."

Jeremy nodded slowly and placed his own glass near Damon's. "Then um... Maybe by the fireplace?"

"Maybe?" Damon was laughing as he pushed himself up to stand though, and he peeled off his shirt as he headed over to the fireplace. He leaned against the mantle, studying himself in the mirror, and Jeremy pulled out his digital camera quickly. He took a couple of photos, different angles, different tilts, and then he had his sketchbook in hand.

The pencil felt clumsy in his fingers as he found himself really trying to focus on Damon's body, and it took two pages before he had a rough sketch that he was happy with. He worked as quickly as he could, and it wasn't until he switched to a softer lead pencil that he let himself slow down. It was a little strange, studying Damon so closely, and as he worked, pencil lightly shading in and eraser marking out highlights, he realized that he was learning Damon far more intimately than he had anyone else.

When he finished the first one, Damon took another long drink of whiskey, and then Jeremy took a few pictures of him standing there like that, glass in hand. He didn't ask Damon to hold the position long enough for him to sketch it though. Instead, he chose to sketch him as he sprawled over the couch. As soon as he finished _that_ one, Damon arched an eyebrow and started to peel off his belt.

The strangest thing was that a protest did not spring to Jeremy's lips. If anything, he simply furrowed his brow and sat up a little more. His fingers were holding on to the pencil so hard that the tips of them were white though, and Damon must have noticed. He peeled off the belt, dropping it to one side of the couch, and Jeremy wondered if he could get away with snapping another picture.

Then those fingers hooked into the front of his jeans, and Damon looked between them and Jeremy, almost like he was asking. Jeremy didn't know if he could nod, but he was pretty sure that if he _could_ , he would have. As it was, he stayed perfectly still, pencil still in hand. Damon stood and let the jeans slide down his hips.

Clearly, Damon was enjoying himself more than he had let on.

Jeremy swallowed and glanced from Damon to the new, blank sheet of paper, and back again. When Damon found some new pose to take, Jeremy snapped a picture, then two, walking around him slowly, trying to determine which angles would be best for it.

He had finally managed to lose the tremor in his hands, but now it felt like his mouth was perpetually dry. He could only barely swallow. He sketched one more time, and he had just tucked the pencil back into the little box that he used for them when he found himself flat on his back on the floor. He wasn't entirely sure when he'd gotten there, but Damon's hand was around his throat and Damon was _straddling_ him and when Damon licked his earlobe, it was everything he could do not to moan.

"You," Damon murmured lowly, right against his ear, "are a little tease. Did you know that?" He licked again, drawing Jeremy's ear into his mouth, and so help him, Jeremy couldn't find it in himself to move. He felt the sharpest prick of teeth, and he shivered. His hands stayed on the floor.

"Damon..."

"Time for you to pay up." Damon's hands pushed under his shirt, and Jeremy made a low noise before he jerked back to reality. He looked toward the door, and Damon sighed. "Stefan isn't coming back any time soon." He peeled the shirt off over Jeremy's head, and Jeremy didn't move to stop him. He didn't want Damon biting his neck, after all, so the safest place would be somewhere on his torso.

Then that tongue started lightly tracing down his chest, and he shivered all over again. "Damon," he whispered, not sure where his voice had gone, "do it. Bite me."

A low growl, and then he felt Damon's teeth over his skin. He couldn't see Damon's face, but he was pretty sure that Damon's eyes had darkened-- and there were the fangs, piercing his skin, making him bleed so that Damon could lap the blood from him. He moaned, couldn't help himself, and his body arched into the touch. With Damon pressed against him, there was no way that Damon could miss his reaction to it, but with another bite, Jeremy discovered that he really didn't care.

He focused on the feel of Damon's tongue on his skin, on the feel of Damon _drinking_ him in like that, and by the time Damon drew back to look at him, Jeremy was gasping for breath, unable to think. He only vaguely even noticed that Damon left him like that, alone in the living room, struggling to catch his breath, and then Damon was back, his hands quickly opening the front of Jeremy's pants.

Damon's hand wrapped around his length, and he felt Damon lapping up the last of the blood from his chest. He shifted into Damon's touch, making a soft noise as he heard Damon whispering in his ear, "Come on, pretty boy. Gonna take care of you." He trembled, and he cried out when he felt Damon move over him, felt him lean down and replace his hand with his mouth. He could feel Damon licking him, sucking and then he couldn't feel anything else at all. His body locked up and stuttered to a stop.

Jeremy didn't even understand what had happened until Damon kissed him, and he could taste something bitter, a sharp contrast to the tang of what he realized had to be his own blood. He moaned into the kiss, and Damon took advantage of it, pressing deeper, _making_ him taste it. Slowly, Damon drew back, and Jeremy dragged shallow, desperate puffs of air into his lungs. He could feel Damon, still hard against him, and he arched against it, a part of him marveling at the fact that he had managed to stir that kind of response.

Damon made a low noise before leaning down to lick at the bite on Jeremy's chest, still bleeding sluggishly. Jeremy shivered under him, and then he asked, "Are you going to?"

"Going to what?" Damon sounded distracted, and Jeremy felt a giggle bubbling up. Damon had just given him probably the best orgasm of his life, and he was _eating_ like nothing had happened. It was kind of kinky, if Jeremy let himself think about it too long.

Instead, Jeremy nudged his hips against Damon's. He raised an eyebrow, and Damon offered one last lick before he leaned back up to where his face was level with Jeremy's. His eyes were dark, and Jeremy reached up to lightly run his fingers over where he could see veins so prominently displayed. Anna had never liked it when he had touched her like that, but Damon didn't even seem to care. Jeremy pushed his hips up to Damon's again, and Damon growled lowly, his lips lingering over Jeremy's throat.

"You can," he whispered, and Damon slammed his hands back down.

"I can what, Jeremy?"

He felt Damon's fingers rolling the bracelet in between them, and Jeremy swallowed. Damon's hands were almost too tight around Jeremy's wrists, but he kept the bracelet in between his fingers, having drawn back enough that he could really look at Jeremy.

"You... You can do it, Damon." He trembled even as he said it, but Damon only pushed his hands a little more firmly against the floor, shaking his head. Jeremy felt something in him stirring at it, and he shifted his hips against Damon's one last time. "You can fuck me," he whispered, and when he felt Damon's tongue on his throat, he moaned. "Damon, please..."

"Please what?" That voice was so low, so dark that Jeremy barely recognized it, and Damon pressed against him, another growl already in his throat. Jeremy wondered just how Damon had already managed to get him aching all over again.

"Please fuck me, Damon." He felt like a freaking _girl_ for saying it, but then Damon was rubbing against him, and Jeremy didn't care. Damon licked at the bite once more, his hands moving to get Jeremy's jeans all the way off, and there was a soft click of a bottle being opened. Jeremy trembled when Damon coaxed him into turning over onto his hands and knees, as he felt Damon's finger brush against him, push _inside_ of him, and he wondered only briefly if he shouldn't have thought the whole thing through a little more.

Then he felt Damon's teeth scraping over his shoulder, and he moaned, tilting his hips into Damon's touch a little more. So long as Damon kept that up, Jeremy would let him do whatever he wanted. He felt himself stretching as Damon added another finger, and he bit his lip even as he felt Damon licking over his shoulder. When Damon got three inside of him, Jeremy was trembling, and Damon just kept teasing him, lightly dragging his fangs over Jeremy's shoulder, licking softly. Jeremy almost couldn't stand it.

And then the touch disappeared, and Jeremy felt Damon behind him, leaning over him. Damon's fingers slid down his arm to touch his bracelet, and before he could ask anything, Jeremy shifted under him. "Please, Damon," he whispered, and he felt Damon pushing into him at the same moment that teeth broke the skin of his shoulder.

He cried out, shivering and gasping, and Damon sank all the way into him, licking at the bite. Had it been anyone else, the soft licks against his shoulder would have felt apologetic, but from Damon, all Jeremy could think of was that they meant so much more; they were possessive.

Jeremy moaned when Damon started to move, but the burning had more or less subsided, and the motion actually felt pretty damned good. Then Damon pushed back in, and Jeremy felt his breath catch in his throat, his eyes widening at the feeling of being so almost-uncomfortably full. Damon licked again, and Jeremy could feel him licking a soft trail over his back. He wondered if his blood was running across his shoulders, streaking in a trail of red with each-- he trembled-- rock of Damon's hips.

"So pretty," Damon murmured, and Jeremy moaned at the sound of that voice, pitched so lowly. "Gonna come again for me, pretty boy?"

Jeremy managed a slight nod, wondering if he even had a choice. Damon was still rocking in and out of him, each push managing to stroke some spot inside of him that he didn't even know was there. Then Damon's arm reached around his hip, moved something under him, and wrapped around his length, _stroking_. Jeremy's arms gave out at that point, and he folded one of them to prop his head up on.

"Damon..." His voice sounded almost like a whine, but it clearly did something for Damon, because he felt Damon's fingers squeeze him just a little more. The motions were picking up speed, Damon's hand matching the speed that he was pushing into Jeremy, and Jeremy could feel himself beginning to tense.

He spilled over Damon's fingers without further warning, and he was still desperately trying to breathe when he felt Damon's hips slam against him, felt him release inside of him. Jeremy's eyes widened before they closed, and Damon didn't move for a moment. He wiped his hand on something under Jeremy, and then finally, he reached down and pulled himself out.

Jeremy moaned at the feel, and he shivered, suddenly chilled without Damon so close to him. He drew a deep breath and moved so that he was sitting on whatever Damon had wiped his hand on. A quick glance, and he groaned, realizing that it was his own shirt. He cast Damon a look, but Damon didn't even notice. He was licking the last of the blood from his lips, a satisfied grin on them.

Wordlessly, he held out his own shirt to Jeremy, and then he pulled his jeans back on. Jeremy thought it was an unusually chivalrous gesture-- was it still chivalry if it was toward another guy? And he wiped himself relatively clean with his shirt before he stood on wobbly legs to get dressed. Damon didn't help him exactly, but he hovered awfully close, and Jeremy wondered if Damon was there to catch him if he fell. He wasn't about to try it though.

He pulled on Damon's shirt last, and he immediately realized that the motion wasn't as kind as he'd originally thought. It was too small for him, its fit uncomfortably close. When he glanced at Damon, he realized that it was the point. Damon looked as though he might like to bite Jeremy a few more times, and Jeremy was pretty sure that he would have let him.

He licked his bottom lip, and he reached up to push his hair out of his face. "So..." He drew a breath, and at Damon's arched eyebrow, he pushed himself to say, "Model for me again tomorrow?"

Damon laughed, reaching up to put a hand on the back of Jeremy's neck and pull him down for a kiss. He murmured against Jeremy's lips, "Only if you bring me lunch."


End file.
